The Grand Admiral
by elektroboot98
Summary: The dreaded White Fang has been growing in strength and is becoming more and more of a threat to the kingdoms. In order to combat this threat, at least within their own borders, the Council of the Kingdom of Atlas has turned for help to the first Faunus to serve as a commissioned officer in the nation's military: Grand Admiral Thrawn. *UNDERGOING REVISION*
1. Checking In

**So this is my first crossover fic. As the summary indicates, it introduces Grand Admiral Thrawn, everyone's favorite villain from the Expanded Universe, into RWBY's world of Remnant.**

 **The story starts around the time of the events of Volume 2, Episode 1. Though I'll be using the Gregorian Calendar as far as days and months are concerned within Remnant, since it does have the same four seasons we have on Earth.**

 **I sincerely hope you enjoy this story!**

 **Disclaimers:**

 **I own neither** _ **RWBY**_ **nor** _ **Star Wars**_ **.**

 **Special thanks to** _ **TheDarkDeceiver**_ **for inspiring me to write this story with his crossover fic** _ **The Dark Headmaster**_ **.**

* * *

 **Update Log:**

 **-(5/13/17): Changed airship classes to names of Star Destroyer classes ( _Victory_ , _Imperator_ , etc.). Why? Because with a few changes, such as removal of deflector shields, hyperdrives, and other space technology, these fine ships will be comprising the Atlesian Air Fleet. Also made a few changes to Thrawn's history.**

 **-(5/16/17): Changed the name of Ironwood's flagship to _Protector_ , the name of a _Victory I_ -class Star Destroyer in the _Star Wars_ canon.**

 **-(6/5/17): Minor alterations. Added the _Devastator_ to Thrawn's fleet (Darth Vader not included).**

 **-(7/26/17): Added details to the description of Thrawn's uniform. Also gave him Lars Mikkelsen's accent.**

* * *

 **September 24th, 80AGW (After Great War)  
** **1027 hours  
** **Outskirts of the Kingdom of Vale**

The _Victory_ -class destroyer was the mainstay of the Atlesian Navy's famous Air Fleet. Boasting highly-advanced weapons and fire control systems and the ability to carry and rapidly deploy ground troops, it was the perfect symbol of Atlas' technological might.

Though it was slowly being replaced by the newer _Imperators_ , the class still made up most of the fleet's order of battle, and numerous refurbishment and overhaul programs were being undertaken to prolong the life of these aging vessels.

Also, while just one of these airships made for an intimidating sight, owing in no small part to the wedge shape of its hull (a trait echoed in all following airship designs), the presence of three would surely strike fear into the hearts of even the most experienced opponents.

At least that was what General James Ironwood thought.

Which was why he was currently standing at the bridge of one such vessel, the ANV _Protector_ , as it cruised through the sky, 15,000 feet off the ground, towards the kingdom of Vale with two of its sister ships, _Stalwart_ and _Sceltor_ , in tow.

As the appointed Head of Security for the upcoming Vytal Festival, and in light of the recent rise in White Fang activity, Ironwood felt a show of force was necessary in order to deter any possible threats to the festival, its participants, and the kingdom itself.

He was confident that the three destroyers and the soldiers they carried would show the White Fang and any other criminals that Atlas meant business.

"General, we're entering Valean airspace," the _Protector_ 's captain announced, "ETA to Vale City is approximately twenty minutes."

"Very good, Captain." Ironwood acknowledged, "Inform me once we've arrived."

"Of course, General."

The General of the Atlesian Ground Forces then left the bridge and made the long walk back to his personal quarters, returning the salute of any wayward crewman he happened across.

Upon arriving at his quarters, he immediately sat down at his desk. It was hardly anything to brag about, containing only the essential stationary and a large LCD touchscreen to which he could connect his Scroll.

Speaking of his Scroll, Ironwood felt it vibrate in the pocket of his jacket, indicating that someone was calling him. He removed the device and plugged it into the monitor.

The General felt his brow furrow as he saw the name that appeared on the screen.

 ** _Thrawn_.**

There was hardly a single soldier, sailor, or officer in the entire Atlesian Military who didn't know that name, owing to the fact that its owner was the first Faunus to serve in the upper ranks of any branch of the military. A remarkable achievement, considering both Atlas' history of poor relations with the Faunus and the blatant racism that some within the military, even after the sweeping changes that followed Thrawn's rise to power, tended to display.

Ironwood's relationship with the man was complicated to say the least. On one hand, Thrawn was the most outspoken critic of the General's plans to replace human soldiers with androids like the Atlesian Knights. He argued that human intelligence at all levels was irreplaceable, and could often prove the key to winning not just battles, but wars as a whole.

Perhaps it was because the idea of a _naval_ officer lecturing a General on ground warfare seemed ludicrous, but the disagreement generated both indignation and resentment towards Thrawn on Ironwood's part. It didn't help that the other eleven Grand Admirals in the Navy shared Thrawn's sentiments on the matter.

And yet despite his animosity towards the Faunus officer, Ironwood respected his approach to military strategy. Like him, Thrawn chose to focus primarily on the bigger picture, placing greater emphasis on winning an entire war rather than a single battle.

He also stressed knowing his enemies, whether human or Grimm, as the key step to defeating them, and would go to great lengths to gather as much knowledge about them from as many different sources, particularly art, as he could.

Ironwood had long considered having Thrawn join Ozpin's inner circle, as his tactical and strategic prowess would certainly prove useful against the Queen's machinations. And if Qrow's warning was anything to go by, they would need all the help they could get.

For now, however, the General let out a sigh as he pushed the "accept" button.

A tall man appeared on the screen, his ghostly white uniform and gold pauldrons signifying his place as a high-ranking officer in the Atlesian Navy. The rectangular insignia plaque over his heart, the Atlesian military's standard form of rank ID (which Ironwood found distasteful and thus kept his own plaque hidden under his jacket), displayed three blue and three yellow squares above a row of three blue and three red squares, identifying the one who wore it as a Grand Admiral.

Though the man held the physique of a human, his pale blue skin and neatly-cropped blue-black hair gave him an almost otherworldly appearance, as though he were one of the "aliens" that the tabloids often harped on about.

Equally disconcerting were his red eyes, whose intensity sharply contrasted with his otherwise suave, calculating demeanor. Each eye bore the slit pupil of a snake, distinguishing their owner as a Faunus.

This was Grand Admiral Thrawn, one of the Atlesian military's most seasoned commanders and arguably one of, if not its, foremost tactician.

His origins lay hidden behind a smokescreen of rumors and conspiracy theories. Some claimed he was a battle-hardened veteran of the Great War or the Faunus Rights revolution. Others spread the more outrageous tale that he had originally been a subject of some inhumane experiment that the Schnee Dust Company had conducted on some of its Faunus laborers.

While many military officers would mount a concerted effort to dispel slander about themselves, Thrawn did nothing of the sort, and his obscurity thus also seemed to heighten his aura of intimidation.

But those within the military, regardless of whatever opinion they held about him, all agreed on one fact: Thrawn possessed an incredibly sharp aptitude for strategy and tactics that not even the most xenophobic of officers could ignore.

This aptitude had earned him promotion after promotion within the Navy's hierarchy, command of the Navy's 7th Air Fleet, now known as "Harbinger Fleet," and prime responsibility for combating the White Fang cells that were operating in Atlas, a task he had been most eager to take on.

Were it not for his history with Thrawn, Ironwood would have felt absolutely unnerved by his presence, as he most certainly had been upon first encountering him.

"General Ironwood," the Grand Admiral coolly greeted his Ground Forces colleague. He spoke with a slight yet sophisticated accent.

"Thrawn," Ironwood stiffly nodded.

After a few seconds of silence, the General decided to move things along.

"How goes your campaign against the White Fang?"

"Splendidly," the snake Faunus hissed, "Our deep reconnaissance team has finally located their headquarters in Atlas. They're hiding on the outskirts of Mantle."

Of course they would be hiding there. Mantle was a city known for its heavy Faunus population and had recently fallen on economic hardships, making it a hotspot for embittered men and women wishing to overthrow a government they believed had actively oppressed them and treated them unfairly.

"I trust you've already got a plan for eliminating them?" Ironwood questioned.

"Of course," Thrawn replied smoothly, "My plan is being executed as we speak."

 _Always a step ahead._

"While this is good news, Thrawn, I hope you've called me for a more important reason."

If the Faunus admiral felt insulted by Ironwood's dismissive remark, his collected stance didn't show it.

"As a matter of fact, I have. I wish to pass along a warning to you."

"A warning?"

Thrawn nodded and pushed a few buttons, pulling up a picture of an airship that was burning in several locations as it drifted through the sky.

"Two days ago, White Fang operatives attacked one of our prison barges, the _Tzoah_ , as it was traveling back to Atlas. While the casualties among the crew were relatively light, the infiltrators that had not been subdued managed to escape with one prisoner."

Though he was a little unsure of why Thrawn would give him this information, Ironwood humored him.

"Why would they free only one prisoner?"

"In order to answer that question, I suggest you look at the prisoner himself."

A mugshot promptly appeared on the General's screen, showing a man in his mid thirties with short, brown hair and glasses that covered his blue eyes. Ironwood read the prisoner's name.

"Astor Neumann."

"A notorious hacker in the criminal underworld," Thrawn supplemented, "He specializes in data theft, planting viruses in the CCT system that allow access to any Scroll or online database in Remnant."

"And the White Fang need to hack into the CCTS, so they've gone to him?"

"Precisely."

Ironwood hummed, "Do you have the _Tzoah_ 's position at the time of the attack?"

"Yes. I'm pulling it up now."

Neumann's mugshot and the picture of the _Tzoah_ disappeared from the screen and were replaced with a map of Remnant. As Ironwood watched, a pair of crosshairs appeared and zeroed in on a relatively large island just north of Vale.

"The Island of Centrum."

"Note its close proximity to Vale, the kingdom that has seen a large increase in White Fang activity over the past month."

"So what you're theorizing is that the White Fang are planning to sneak into Vale's CCTS tower and introduce a virus into the system."

The snake Faunus nodded once more.

"Considering the speed with which they've been operating lately, they may already be in position to strike. It is now a question of when they intend to do so."

"They'll think twice once they see our destroyers over Vale," Ironwood declared confidently, "The White Fang wouldn't dare try anything under our watch."

Thrawn's cool expression became one of skepticism as he raised an eyebrow.

"I hope your gaze doesn't falter then."

Ironwood felt his mouth twitch slightly at the insinuation. He took a breath in an attempt to clear his head.

"Anything else you wish to tell me?"

"Just one more thing," Thrawn's blue lips curled into a sneer, making the General feel a bit wary of what he had to say next.

"Do be more careful with your toys, General," the Faunus chided, "We can't have them fall into the wrong hands."

Ironwood clenched his fists as the connection closed.

 _Of course he would bring up the missing Paladins!_

* * *

Hundreds of miles north of Ironwood's current position, aboard the _Imperator_ -class destroyer _Chimaera_ , Thrawn turned his attention back to the White Fang propaganda posters he'd been studying in his office.

In accordance with the group's shift towards aggression, the posters each depicted, and thereby encouraged, violence towards humans.

One showed a Faunus laborer, the White Fang's flag billowing in the background, crushing a tiny, cowering caricature of the SDC's CEO Jacques Schnee, Dust containers, and other such paraphernalia with his boot while also raising a sledgehammer above him. The caption read, "Thoroughly smash the oppressive Schnees! Join the fight today!"

Another featured two White Fang members. One was strangling miniscule depictions of Atlesian councilmen, while the other was jamming the barrel of a rifle into one member's mouth. "Overthrow the tyrants!" It urged.

The posters clearly tried to empower the Faunus, either through portraying humans as cowardly or through showing that laborers could take up arms. They also played to their grievances, particularly concerning the SDC, making it all the more easier to gain recruits eager to fight for "justice."

 _Justice_ , Thrawn mused, _If ever there was a word with a more ambiguous and distorted meaning_ …

He heard someone knock on his door. Though he felt a twinge of annoyance at being disturbed, he kept his cool façade.

"Come in."

A young Petty Officer entered the room, his pauldrons bearing a stylized Chimaera as a sign of allegiance to Thrawn.

"Sir, we just received a message from the _Devastator_ ," the officer informed him, "Schatten Squad reports that Phase 1 of the operation is complete."

"Excellent," Thrawn declared.

Schatten Squad, derived from the Old Atlesian word for "shadow," was one of the commando teams that served under the military's Advanced Operations branch. Each team had been given a name of this type that pertained to symbols of death, owing to the all-black armor that the commandos wore.

However, some within the military, and even within the White Fang, had recently begun referring to them by a somewhat more sinister moniker.

"And the saboteurs?" Thrawn questioned the Petty Officer.

"Ready to cut the power on your command, sir."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. Captain Pellaeon has requested your presence on the bridge to oversee the next phase."

"Very well. I shall head there now."

After dismissing the officer, Thrawn rose from his chair and strode to the door. He cast one last glance towards the White Fang posters before switching off the light and closing the door.

As he walked to the _Chimaera_ 's bridge, his black boots clicking against the floor, the snake Faunus' eyes blazed with a fierce determination. The White Fang had been a blight on society for too long, their violent methods serving only to threaten what little peace and stability had come out of the bloody years of war and revolution.

The time for their eradication had come.

* * *

 **Whew! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of my first crossover! I've already started work on the next chapter, though it may take some time due to my hectic college life.**

 **If you have any suggestions for how you want this story to pan out (Within the realm of reason, though. I don't plan to include anything pertaining to the Jedi or the Force, as this fic is focused on Thrawn), either include it in your review or PM me.**

 **Finally, if there's anything wrong with my portrayal of Thrawn, besides the fact that he isn't a Chiss (because the Chiss don't exist on Remnant!), please let me know.**

 **So a few notes:**

– **The** _ **Chimaera**_ **shares its name with the Imperial Star Destroyer that serves as Thrawn's flagship in both the** _ **Rebels**_ **cartoon show and Timothy Zahn's "Legends" novels. Since I included the** _ **Chimaera**_ **, I thought it would only make sense to also include her famous skipper: Captain Gilad Pellaeon.**

– **The name I gave for the prison barge,** _ **Tzoah**_ **,** **is derived from the Hebrew phrase "Tzoah Rotachat," which refers to a place in the valley of Gehenna (the Jewish analogue of hell) where a Jew who has committed particularly heinous sins is sent for excruciating punishment. As I'm not Jewish, this description may not be accurate. If that is the case, then I sincerely apologize.**

– **The White Fang propaganda posters are inspired by Chinese Communist Party posters created during Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution.**

– **Old Atlesian is pretty much Remnant's version of German.**

 **As always, constructive criticism is welcomed, and I'll see you all next chapter.**


	2. Of Scars and Shadows

**Special thanks to everyone who submitted their ideas for the story.**

 **Credit and thanks to** _ **NicodemusV**_ **for providing the classification system for Atlesian weaponry**

* * *

 _The Advanced Operations branch of the Atlesian Military (AO for short) was formed in the years following the Faunus Civil Rights Protests. By this time, the Council of Atlas had determined that its kingdom could no longer rely solely on standard infantry, Huntsmen, or the Specialists to combat an increasingly militant White Fang._

 _Though the branch initially only consisted of a battalion of elite soldiers from the Ground Forces, it has grown significantly in recent years and now includes subunits responsible for conducting both ground and air operations._

 _AO soldiers wear armor that is distinct from the other branches of the military and carry enhanced weapons supplied primarily by Concellia Arms Co., the creators of the famous PCR-26 family of plasma combat rifles used by all branches of the Atlesian military._

* * *

 ** _5 days earlier_**

 **September 19th, 80AGW  
1224 hours  
** **Kingdom of Atlas, Mantel District  
** **Several kilometers East of the City of Mantle  
** **White Fang Atlas Headquarters**

The air at the base was tense. Hardly anyone cracked a joke or a smile.

In the past, the White Fang had treated the Atlesian military with derision and mockery. Their tactics were predictable, their response to any attack had been slow, and their troops had been easy to beat. These weaknesses had allowed the Faunus radicals to operate in Atlas with near impunity. At one point, they'd stolen so much dust from SDC trains that the company had been forced to halt shipments entirely.

But within the past year, the Atlesians had started to change their strategy, and it had produced significant problems for the White Fang.

Dust robberies had turned to ambushes. Informants were being captured or killed outright at a higher rate than earlier. Recruitment had started to drop.

Morale had dropped even further when it had been discovered that the newly-appointed Grand Admiral Thrawn had been the one tasked with dealing with the organization's Atlas cells.

Now, the mere sight of an Atlesian airship hovering off the ground was enough to frighten even the battle-hardened Lieutenants.

Because of these troubling times, everyone at the base was now almost always on full alert. The guards were making thorough sweeps of every nook and cranny and, to the chagrin of many, periodically forcing members to remove their masks so that they could be properly identified. Anyone who didn't match the register was to be summarily executed.

Alas, the White Fang had grown so concerned with checking for signs of trouble on the inside that they had in turn grown a little too negligent of their external surroundings, such as the cypress forest about half a mile to the south of the compound.

On the edge of said forest, secluded by the foliage, sat two hooded figures that were observing the base with binoculars.

The cloaks unfortunately did a poor job of hiding their faces. Not that it would make a difference, for they wore grey, skull-shaped helmets that completely encased their heads.

"Idiots," Sergeant Kreel derisively remarked, his voice minutely amplified by his helmet, "They never learn."

"I don't know why you're complaining," his companion, a Private First Class by the name of Misty, retorted, "I sure as hell 'aint."

Kreel was the leader of Atlas' Special Commando Advanced Recon squadron, known colloquially as SCAR squad. The unit was attached to the overarching Joint Advanced Operations Command, or JAOCOM.

The squad's members wore a set of battle armor designed specifically for AO soldiers that was designated _Katarn_ , after an ancient Grimm rumored to lurk in the swamps of Mistral. The armor was originally intended for use by foot soldiers in the Ground Forces. However, it was rejected, as it was considered too fear-inducing and thus inappropriate for widespread use in a time of peace.

But because Advanced Operations was significantly smaller than the Ground Forces and because its operatives tended to generally avoid the public eye, they weren't bound by such restrictions. And the branch needed a new set of armor that was distinct from other branches and reliable in any sort of environment the operatives were bound to face. Thus, the _Katarn_ armor found a new purpose.

Considered one of AO's most elite units, SCAR squad specialized in both assassination and hunter-killer missions. In the case of the former, they would be deployed to eliminate high-value targets (HVTs) among the White Fang, such as informants, local leaders, and recruiters. For the latter, they would act as deep reconnaissance, scouting for larger targets, like bases and hideouts, and transmitting their location to bombardment units or other commando squads.

Key to these missions was the fact that SCAR squad had Faunus in their ranks, making the unit ideal for infiltration and subterfuge missions against the White Fang.

"I don't see why we can't just kill 'em ourselves." Misty gestured towards his beloved weapon, a PSR-21-II semi-automatic sniper rifle, which lay against a tree.

Kreel rolled his eyes.

"Because the objective isn't simply to take out their regional bigwigs. Command also wants the base searched and destroyed. And in case you've forgotten, we've got no rockets or explosives since both of our heavy weapons specialists are still recovering from our mission in Menagerie."

Two weeks prior, SCAR squad had been sent to the Faunus-inhabited island as part of an attempt to assassinate Sienna Khan, the current leader of the White Fang, and other top officials at a meeting they were holding. While they had managed to to kill several of Khan's immediate subordinates and take one hostage, Khan himself had escaped. To make matters worse, the squad's two heavy weapons specialists, Shrap and Zuke, had both been severely wounded in the ensuing firefight.

"Good times," Misty declared cheerily, "Remember when Zuke threw all his grenades at that Lieutenant with the huge flail?"

Despite the serious nature of their mission, Kreel couldn't help but grin underneath his helmet.

"Yup. Blew that giant bastard and everyone around him to smithereens."

The two soldiers chuckled, though they were interrupted by a beeping sound on Kreel's radio.

"Yeah?" he answered.

The voice of Mic, a fox Faunus who served as SCAR Squad's slicer, crackled over the radio.

"New recruits are due to arrive by Bullhead five days from now. ETA is around 1830 hours."

"What about the main targets? Are they still in the base?"

"Affirmative. They've been ordered to remain on site in response to the attempt on Khan."

"Good work, Mic. Switch off and lay low. At nightfall, rendezvous with Aero and Cav for extraction."

"Roger. Mic out."

Kreel sighed and rose from his cover.

"Come on. Let's go give _Devastator_ the good news."

"Right."

Misty grabbed his sniper rifle and followed.

The two men trekked deeper into the forest until they came across the clearing where their Bullhead was hidden. Kreel went inside to transmit the message while Misty stood guard.

Inside the base, Mic switched off his radio and re-assumed the persona of Fennek Rüppel, a snappy ex-SDC laborer from the seedy parts of Eastern Atlas' Kaltenhaven District.

* * *

 **Present day – September 24th  
1830 hours**

 _This is so boring!_ , the deck officer thought to himself as he stood guard at the landing pad. The other sentries shared his sentiments, as evidenced by their somewhat drooping stature.

As much as they feared the Atlesians, that didn't make their jobs any less dull. What were they even supposed to be on the lookout for? A freaking warship? Granted, they might as well surrender if a _Victory_ popped up above them.

The sound of Bullhead engines snapped the sentries back to attention, causing them to look up and notice a pair of the large transports approaching the base.

According to the deck officer's manifesto, the Bullheads were supposed to be carrying new recruits to be dropped off at the base.

This caused him to grin under his mask. Toying with the newbies was always fun.

As the two transports touched down on the pad, the three Faunus approached them, eager to get a look at the grunts who'd signed up to join the White Fang's noble crusade against the humans.

One of the sentries reached towards the Bullhead on the left and banged on the passenger bay door with his knuckles.

"Open up, you maggots!"

The three of them chuckled. They could imagine the frightened faces of the recruits as they realized that things weren't all cozy with the White Fang.

To their mild surprise, the door immediately swung upwards, revealing the passengers.

While checking his manifesto once more, out of the corner of his eye, the deck officer noticed a confused expression on his subordinate's face.

"What the–"

The rest of the sentry's exclamation went unfinished, as he suddenly fell back, a bullet hole in his forehead.

Reacting instinctively, the deck officer dropped his clipboard and went for the pistol at his side holster, only to meet a similar fate in the form of a plasma round to his skull.

The remaining sentry was also quickly picked off. He didn't even have a chance to scream before his corpse hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

After a few seconds of silence, an armored figure stepped out of one of the Bullheads, holding the silenced PCR-26-III with which it had killed two of the sentries.

It would've been understandable to mistake the figure for a foot soldier in the Atlesian military. While it was certainly in the employ of Atlas and carried a modified version of the Ground Forces' standard combat rifle, the similarities ended there. For this soldier's armor was completely black, in contrast to the grey color given to standard Atlas infantry.

Additionally, while regular soldiers wore a helmet that at least revealed their mouth, the angular faceplate of this thing's _Katarn_ -style helmet covered everything. Where there should've been a mouth, there was instead a small metallic grille in between two large, dark green lights, each a somewhat lighter hue than the tint of the polarizing visor that covered the creature's eyes.

The humanoid turned back towards the Bullheads and uttered a command. To an outsider's ears, it would have sounded like utter gibberish, owing to the voice scrambler built into the soldier's helmet.

His comrades inside the transports, however, understood the order clearly.

" _Area secure. Move out."_

An additional eleven such soldiers quickly filed out of the Bullheads, each armed to the teeth with various weapons of his or her own specialty.

The curved armor plates that covered their shoulders each bore a small, grey emblem. It consisted of the Atlesian roundel, except with the torch that ran through the center replaced with a _ninjato_ sword: a reference to the shadow assassins of Mistrali lore. This mark identified those who bore it as members of Atlas' 1st Advanced Warfare Squad, also known as Schatten Squad.

These men and women were death troopers, the Atlesian military's own special operations forces. Drawn from the most proficient ranks of both Advanced Operations and the Ground Forces, they had all undergone rigorous training in all sorts of environments and been given classified medical and surgical enhancements which made them faster, stronger, and more resilient than the average Atlesian foot soldier. As per their secretive nature, they'd also given up the names they held before, instead going by callsigns.

Their black armor was coated with a special polymer that warped signals from motion detectors, making the death troopers nearly invisible to sensors and well-suited for stealth operations – operations like the one they were currently embarked on.

While some of the troopers hid the corpses of the sentries, the squad leader, callsign Spectre, raised a hand and gestured towards the base entrance, a large metal door with a small keypad.

The squad's explosive specialist, callsign Cherub, rushed forward and set up a small breach charge.

After making sure the others were a safe distance away, she pulled out a tiny detonator.

" _Detonating…now."_

The minute explosion destroyed the latch, allowing Spectre to kick the door open.

The hallway was almost completely dark, a sign that the Atlesian sappers had cut the power to the base. While it wouldn't hide the troopers from the White Fang, who had natural night-vision, the terrorists would be unable to radio other bases for help.

Spectre's night vision filter, standard for all death troopers, allowed him to discern a pair of Faunus rushing towards him. Either they had heard the explosion or they were investigating the fate of the deck officer and his sentries.

Regardless, they were unarmed. Shock turned to fear as the the two grunts realized what was standing in front of them.

With two simple depressions of the trigger, Spectre added two more kills to his tally.

The rest of the squad followed him into the base, their weapons at the ready.

* * *

In the conference room, the three regional leaders sat silently around a table.

Ruseau Muntjack, a deer Faunus from Vacuo, frequently checked his pistol, a Winchester Model 75. Regarded by many weapons experts as the worst and most dangerous pistol ever made, owing to its tendency to discharge whenever it hit something hard, it was nevertheless favored by criminals for its cheap price.

Muntjack's skittishness was mirrored by Chantille LaPerm, an Atlesian native from Eisschloss District who had been displaced from his home by the construction of a dust refinery in the region. The cat Faunus tightly grasped his cleaver, his eyes darting every which way.

Xia Shih, on the other hand, sat at the head of the table deep in thought.

Though she didn't show it, she was as on edge as the rest of her comrades. The new measure requiring members to remove their masks for identification had been severely unpopular, as they had seen it as a sign of distrust. Was trust not one of the reasons that Faunus were drawn to the White Fang?

She didn't like it anymore than they did, but she saw it as a necessary precaution.

Her mind then drifted towards their opponent. Just as the dagger-shaped silhouette of an Atlesian warship struck fear into any White Fang member, the idea that Thrawn had some sick plan in store for them was enough to fill the normally stoic Shih with a sense of dread.

Even more frightening was that Thrawn's strategies did not abide by a set formula like most other Atlesians did. His tactics always changed and were difficult to follow. By the time White Fang strategists had figured out one stage of his plan, assuming they had such a stroke of luck, he had already moved on to the next stage.

An explosion interrupted Shih's thoughts. The Mistrali dog Faunus immediately went for the battery-operated walkie-talkie at her waist.

"Report! What's happening?"

"Death troopers have breached the base!" The panicked voice responded, "They're heading for the confer– _gakh_!"

The line went dead.

With the heightened hearing her dog ears provided, Shih recognized several footsteps amidst all the gunfire and screams, footsteps that steadily grew louder.

She'd heard stories of the ruthlessness of death troopers and how they would kill every single White Fang member they came across. In short, this was it. Despite all the precautions she and her fellow leaders had tried, they had failed. Resistance was futile and would only delay the inevitable.

She didn't even flinch when they breached the doors. Nor did she cry out in pain when the plasma rounds tore through her body.

As she lay dying, Shih's two comrades took the death troopers under fire.

Muntjack was slain with a shot to the head, the single round he'd discharged going wild.

LaPerm managed to disarm the squad leader with his cleaver. In the end, however, the trooper managed to evade his wild swings before reaching up and snapping the cat Faunus' neck, killing him.

With that, the Atlesian cells of the White Fang were now deprived of their top commanders.

* * *

The Bullheads flew away from the burning remains of the base, their passengers and cargo secure.

After completing their primary objective, the death troopers of Schatten Squad had searched the base for any important materials. They'd managed to collect hundreds of documents, data storage devices, and, at the peculiar request of a certain high-ranking naval officer, every bit of art they could find and carry.

Then they'd destroyed the base by setting off the explosives in the armory and igniting the fuel storage tanks in the motor pool. Cherub had also pitched in most of her stash of plastic explosives.

Not a word was exchanged between the troopers, for nothing needed to be said.

After about thirty minutes of flight away from Mantle, the dagger shape of an _Imperator_ -class destroyer came into view.

"Transport 17-3151," a security officer's voice crackled over the first Bullhead's radio, "Transmit clearance codes now."

Beneath her helmet, Lieutenant Ada Borchardt rolled her hazel eyes. Seriously, who else would be flying a Bullhead straight towards an Atlesian warship? The White Fang weren't _that_ stupid.

Nonetheless, she decided to comply. After all, no one wanted to be responsible for the loss of an entire squad of death troopers.

"Copy, _Devastator_. Transmitting codes now."

Ada inserted a Scroll into a slot on her instrument panel. It whirred to life and began relaying the clearance codes to the security officer aboard the _Devastator_.

After a few seconds, the officer's voice crackled over the radio.

"Checks out. You are cleared for landing."

"Thank you."

Ada switched off the radio and guided the Bullhead towards the hangar, the second transport close behind.

She leaned back in her seat and sighed, awaiting the long debriefing with a minute sense of dread. Ugh, with how stressful this mission was, she just wanted to collapse in her bunk. If one more pilot tried to flirt with her, she would probably punch them.

* * *

 **So first, a few notes:**

 **-At the suggestion of** _ **Lord Demolitions**_ **, SCAR squad is here. For those of you who don't know what SCAR squad is, it's an elite Stormtrooper squad tasked with commando missions. How elite are we talking? Well, in canon, Sergeant Kreel has a lightsaber.**

 **-Stormtrooper armor (and by extension, death trooper armor) is being included in the form of _Katarn_ armor, though only for members of Advanced Operations.**

 **-The sinister death troopers from** _ **Rogue One**_ **have been introduced. Why? Because they're awesome and, while they've been touted as the Empire's equivalent of Seal Team Six, we've yet to see them perform in that particular role (though they did kind of do that in the season 3 finale of** _ **Rebels**_ **). Don't get me wrong, they were still impressive.**

 **-The code names for the death troopers are taken from _Call of Duty_**

 **-For the White Fang leaders, I based their names (along with Mic's cover name) on different species of the type of animal that their Faunus traits are derived from (credit to** _ **SeerKing**_ **for the idea)**

 **-Ada Borchardt is based on Flight Lieutenant Ada from Paul Johnson's amazing short anime-style film** _ **TIE Fighter**_ **, based on the awesome game of the same name.**

 **-The fact that the Winchester family (as in Cardin's family) makes substandard guns is borrowed from** _ **SeerKing**_ **'s fic "Poison Promise." Also, the Model 75's problems are an over-exaggeration of problems experienced by the Japanese Type 94 Nambu pistol.**

 **Second, I know it's been a month since I posted Chapter 1, but I have an explanation. So please put your pitchforks down.**

 ***Waits with** _ **katana**_ **at the ready, just in case.***

 **Thank you.**

 **College. Just college. So many damn essays, tests, quizzes, studying, projects, oh my god. Now that I'm on break, I will hopefully have more time on my hands, time that I can allocate to working on this story.**

 **Finally, I will take the time to reply to the reviews that I can't reply to via PM.**

* * *

 **-MCZ: Forget a room. I imagine if Thrawn could get away with it, he'd have an entire floor of the** _ **Chimaera**_ **turned into an art gallery. Nonetheless, as art is a key part of Thrawn's character, I intend to showcase more of his collection in future chapters.**

 **-Guest 1: Your wish has been granted.**

 **-Guest 2: I'm glad to hear that you approve. Thrawn is an amazing character and, in my opinion, one of the most fascinating villains in all of** _ **Star Wars**_ **.**

 **-Guest 3: Again, I'm glad you approve. And I will most certainly keep up the good work. Hopefully, it's up to par.**

 **-Guest 4: Lord Vader does not exist on Remnant! Therefore his authority is not recog–** _ ***gackh!***_

 _ ***Uggghhhh***_

 _ **I mean, as you wish, my lord. I will continue to work diligently on this fic.**_

 _ ***Takes deep breath as the force choking ends***_

 **I hate when he does that.**

* * *

 **As always, constructive criticism is welcome. See you next chapter, my fellow readers, and may the Force be with you.**


	3. React, Relax, Repair

**Special thanks to _Lord Demolitions_ and _king of fans_ for providing the suggestions for elements of this chapter.**

 **First, a very brief announcement.**

 **In observance of Memorial Day, this chapter is dedicated to the brave men and women who have fought and died in service of our nation in all its 240 (soon to be 241) years of existence and those that continue to fight. May their sacrifices never be forgotten.**

 **Now, on with the chapter...**

* * *

 **Update Log:**

 **-(6/15/17): Removed Lieutenant Borchardt and Schatten Squad, as they are all based aboard the _Devastator_.**

 **-(7/27/17): Changed the date in order to keep consistent with the canon timeline and Chapter 4**

* * *

 _The Tagge Corporation, also known as TaggeCo, is one of Atlas' many industry conglomerates and one of the kingdom's most important defense contractors. Like the Schnee Dust Company, it is family owned, currently under the ownership of Grand General Cassio Tagge, Head of the Atlesian Ground Forces._

 _Unlike the SDC, however, TaggeCo has not been the subject of controversy concerning Faunus rights. When asked about these matters, Grand General Tagge claimed that the use of automated machinery in certain parts of his factories and shipyards allows for better wages for his workers and that because the kingdom's Faunus population are just as much citizens of Atlas as the Humans, discrimination would not be tolerated in his company._

 _Although Tagge is a member of the Ground Forces, the Atlesian Navy is his company's primary customer. TaggeCo owns several shipyards throughout Atlas that are responsible for both producing the new_ Imperator _-class destroyers and conducting maintenance on both the_ Imperators _and the older_ Victory _-class destroyers._ _In addition, its factories produce aircraft used exclusively by the Navy, such as the F-1 Nimbus air-superiority fighter, the_ Nemesis _-class gunship, and the_ Wespe _-class military dropship_.

* * *

 **September 27th, 80AGW  
** **1445 hours  
** **Beacon Academy  
** **Library**

"No one has claimed responsibility for a series of late night deadly explosions and fires that occurred three days ago on the outskirts of the Atlesian city of Mantle. Investigations of the apparent site revealed large bits of rubble apparently belonging to a large building. There is no indication, however, of who was responsible for its destruction. We will continue to update you once we have more information. For now, this is Lisa Lavender."

Blake Belladonna frowned at the computer screen as the Vale News Network broadcast ended. For obvious reasons, at least to Headmaster Ozpin and her three teammates, she knew the White Fang had an important base in Mantle.

And even though she was currently suffering from lack of sleep, owing in no small part to the investigation she'd been conducting following her team's stakeout at the local White Fang hideout 3 days ago, the cat Faunus had a sneaking suspicion that these explosions were part of a military operation. If that was the case, then there was only one person who could be responsible.

For the sake of confirmation, she typed in a keyword and cycled through a list of headlines until she came to one dated a year ago. And lo and behold,

 **Grand Admiral Thrawn Declares War on White Fang's Atlas Cells**

Blake remembered first reading of the snake Faunus' promotion during her early years as a White Fang agent. As Atlas was considered the #1 enemy of all Faunus, the idea that its military would employ one in a high-ranking position was absolutely shocking. Even more shocking was the rise in Faunus recruitment to all branches of the military that had occurred following Thrawn's ascension, which some Faunus apparently saw as a sign that more opportunities in the military were available to them.

She hadn't taken much stock in his campaign, owing to the fact that she had been operating in Vale during the year in which it had first been announced, two years before her desertion. Though she had heard fellow members talking amongst themselves about him and how he had somehow turned the tables on their brothers and sisters in Atlas.

If Blake's hypothesis was correct, then those rumors she'd heard had a large degree of truth to them.

Suddenly, a red dot appeared on the screen. Blake watched it rise up and down on the screen before it moved to her right hand.

She glared over her shoulder to see the offending party.

Only to find no one. Everyone she could see was either browsing the bookshelves or using the other computers scattered throughout the library.

After watching about two seconds, Blake turned her attention back to the computer screen. To her relief, the dot had disappeared.

That relief was short-lived, however, as it immediately reappeared on her hand before vanishing and popping up again on the screen.

She watched it move around again on the screen before squeezing her eyes shut.

 _This isn't happening. It's just your mind playing tricks on you! Focus, Blake!_

When she opened them, Blake found that, much to her frustration, she was not hallucinating. There was indeed a bright, red dot vying for her attention.

With a growl of irritation, she pounded the desk with her fists before rising from the chair and whirling around, ready to punch whoever was distracting her.

She then noticed the dot was on the floor and began to follow it as it moved, finally deciding to play this sick mastermind's game. If it turned out to be Sun trying again to ask her to the dance, Blake couldn't guarantee that she would spare him.

After following the dot down the library, she found the source of the dot standing right in front of her.

"Hello~," Yang Xiao Long cheerfully greeted her with a wave, a laser pointer in her other hand.

"What are you–" Blake began to ask.

"We need to talk," Yang declared after grabbing her hand.

With a surprised yelp, Blake was dragged away from the library by her partner for a talk.

* * *

 **Kingdom of Atlas  
Nebligesland District  
** **5,000 feet above the city of Dolchstadt  
** **ANV** _ **Chimaera  
**_ **Admiral's Cabin**

Contrary to popular belief, members of the Atlesian Military occasionally had downtime on their hands.

This was especially true aboard the _Chimaera_ , though everyone had their own way of using it.

The enlistees would converse amongst themselves about various topics or communicate with their loved ones, usually either to check in on them or to rave about how excited they were to be part of the Atlesian Navy's most prized and sought-after fleet.

The destroyer's captain would take leisurely walks around the ship, making sure that everyone was acclimated to life aboard an _Imperator_.

Then there was Thrawn, who would almost always choose to indulge in his art collection, consisting of various works from all four kingdoms.

Currently, his attention was held by two swords from Mistral, each from different locales within the kingdom and of different designs.

On the left was a xiphos that had been forged in the kingdom's northern region about 50 years ago. Its double-edged blade bore a similar shape to that of one of the three forms of Miló, the signature weapon of Pyrrha Nikos, the legendary champion of Mistral's Regional Tournament for 4 years.

To its right sat a _katana_ that, according to the inscriptions on the blade's tang, had been forged in the southern village of Kuchinashi a hundred years prior to the Great War.

Maybe it was because of the smooth curve of its single-edged blade or because of the wavy _hamon_ that outlined the transition between the low-carbon soft steel and the high-carbon hard steel used to forge the sword, but Thrawn found the _katana_ the most aesthetically pleasing out of the two weapons on his desk. It was truly amazing how such a lethal blade could also possess such elegance.

As he began the process of cleaning the sword, he allowed himself to dwell on the events of the previous few days.

The Faunus Admiral had spent the day after Schatten Squad's raid briefing members of the Atlesian Council on the mission and its results. He'd chosen not to mention his discussion with Ironwood, seeing as the General had decided to tune in to the briefing from Vale.

Overall, judging by their expressions, the attending councilors were pleased with the mission's results. The only exception was Ironwood, who was just as critical of the death troopers as Thrawn and the Grand Admirals were of the Atlesian Knights.

The following morning, at a meeting between the 7th Air Fleet's captains, the COs of the destroyers _Judicator_ and _Bellicose_ reported that their ships were due for an overhaul, and would therefore require a trip to the shipyards.

Thus, the mighty fleet had turned north for the city of Dolchstadt, home to TaggeCo's largest shipyard.

The trip had taken two days, as Nebligesland District was located in the uppermost parts of the kingdom, and the ships could only travel so fast.

While losing two of his destroyers, especially the veteran _Judicator_ , would certainly handicap him somewhat, the trip would not be a complete loss for Thrawn. Seeing as he was friends with both the CEO of TaggeCo (who also happened to be Ironwood's superior) and the Grand Admiral whose fleet was tasked with protecting the company's shipyards, this would be the perfect opportunity to share his suspicions concerning the White Fang.

A loud _beep_ grabbed Thrawn's attention. and he looked up to see a light flashing on his intercom. After setting the _katana_ down, he reached forward and pressed the talk button.

"Yes?"

The voice of the _Chimaera_ 's captain replied.

"We're approaching the Dolchstadt Shipyard now, sir. Also, Grand Admiral Grunger wishes to speak to you."

"Very well, patch him through."

"Yes, sir."

As the connection closed, Thrawn turned his attention to the LCD screen situated at the far end of his desk.

The image of a middle-aged man appeared. Like Thrawn, he was dressed in the uniform of a Grand Admiral. The black color of his goatee and thick, short mustache matched that of his neatly-cropped hair. Green eyes sat upon a pale face whose skin seemed stretched taut.

Grand Admiral Josef Grunger, Commander of the Atlesian 3rd Air Fleet, also known as "Red Hammer Fleet," grinned at his friend.

"Thrawn! It's been too long."

"Hello, Grunger," Thrawn greeted with a nod, "How go things over the shipyards?"

In answer, Grunger's smile vanished and was replaced with a grimace as his shoulders drooped.

"Things are absolutely boring here! I never thought I'd miss the Coup of '73!"

Thrawn quirked an eyebrow.

"You'd prefer civil war over peacetime?"

Grunger shrugged.

"At least we had something to shoot at, even if it was our own ships."

"Are you forgetting that we had to spend six of the seven years since that battle rebuilding the entire Air Fleet?"

"How could I forget?" Grunger sardonically retorted, "I had to spend those three years sitting on my ass over Tagge's shipyards and making sure those _Imperators_ were built without the White Fang's interference. Just as I'm doing right now!"

The human Grand Admiral took a deep breath.

"But enough of my problems. What brings you back here?"

"Two of my _Imperators_ need to be overhauled," Thrawn replied.

"Alright. I'll notify Grand General Tagge and ask that he make the necessary preparations. Do you also want to speak with him in person?"

Thrawn nodded.

"I do. In fact, tell him that Captain Pellaeon and yourself will also be present."

Now it was Grunger's turn to quirk an eyebrow.

"I will, will I?"

The snake Faunus smirked.

"Yes, you will. It's time you take a break from 'sitting on your ass.'"

Grunger gasped in faux surprise.

"Well I'll be damned, I'd forgotten you could be so generous."

"Don't get too used to it," Thrawn admonished with an amused huff.

Grunger chuckled as the transmission ended.

Thrawn carefully replaced the _katana_ back in its mountings and resheathed the xiphos before placing them both back in their protective cases. Once he was done, he turned back to the intercom, flipped a few switches, and pressed the talk button.

"Captain Pellaeon, meet me at the main hangar and alert the hangar personnel to prepare my dropship."

He did not wait for a reply, as it was not necessary. Instead, he switched off the intercom and, having risen from his chair, made his way to the door of his cabin.

After just eight minutes of navigating the corridors, he was at the _Chimaera_ 's main hangar. But as it took longer to walk there from the bridge, Thrawn was forced to wait for an additional two minutes before the _Chimaera_ 's captain joined him.

Standing just shorter than Thrawn, Captain Gilad Pellaeon may have aged over time, as his bushy, grey mustache indicated. But behind his brown eyes lay the mind of a shrewd and experienced military officer who, seven years earlier, had played a decisive role in stopping a military coup that had threatened to eliminate the entire Atlesian council.

It was because of this role that he had been offered a promotion to the rank of Vice Admiral and command of his own fleet. Alas, he'd refused to don the all-white uniform and instead retained the rank of Captain, choosing to serve aboard the _Chimaera_ under the command of the most interesting military officer he'd ever met.

"Sir." Pellaeon greeted the Grand Admiral with a salute.

"At ease, Captain." Thrawn remarked, "Follow me."

They strode down the length of the hangar, passing a column of marching ensigns who were singing the _Westerwaldlied_ , a popular marching song amongst all branches of the military.

 _Oh~h, Du schöner We~esterwald,  
_ _Eukalyptusbonbon,  
_ _Über Deine Höhen pfeift der Wind,  
(*whistle*)  
_ _So kalt,  
(*whistle*)  
_ _Jedoch der kleinste Sonnenschein,  
_ _Dringt tief ins Herz hinein!_

Pellaeon, being a native of Atlas' Westerwald region, had often heard the tune being sung by workers as they went into the forests and thus knew it by heart.

So, he hummed the rest of it as he continued to follow Thrawn.

The two men soon reached a _Wespe_ -class dropship, distinguishable by its elongated cockpit that housed a pilot and gunner, its troop cabin, similar in size to that of a Bullhead, and the pair of large wings protruding from its fuselage, plus another pair of smaller wings mounted atop the troop cabin.

As soon as its passengers were aboard, the cabin doors closed, and the dropship departed from the _Chimaera_. Because there were no windows, the passengers could not see a single thing. There were also no seats, forcing them to stand and grasp the handles for support.

After about seven minutes of flight, the ship deposited Thrawn and Pellaeon at a landing pad in front of a large building that housed the shipyard's administrative sector. Situated behind the drydocks, the building's top floor contained Tagge's office, which allowed for a view of the entire shipyard.

They walked to the main entrance and were greeted by a female officer who wore an armband bearing the TaggeCo logo.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she spoke in a clipped, professional voice, "If you would follow me. Grand General Tagge is expecting you."

The woman guided them through the lobby of the building, bustling with officers and scientists, to a row of elevators.

Though the building was 12 stories high, the elevator's high speed meant that the trip to the top floor took a little over a minute.

After arriving at the 12th floor, they walked down several more corridors before arriving at a large pair of doors that presumably led to Tagge's office.

"Please wait here." the woman instructed. She then opened one of the doors and went inside.

"It still amazes me how Tagge can run both an army and a company at the same time," Pellaeon mused as they stood before he doors.

Thrawn nodded in agreement. What was truly surprising was that Tagge was able to manage both organizations effectively, apparently possessing both a keen eye for military tactics and skills as a businessman that rivaled that of Jacques Schnee, save for the fact that Tagge actually cared about his workers unlike the Schnee scion.

"You!" an accusatory voice cried out from behind them.

The Grand Admiral and Captain both whirled around to face the source of the noise.

Said source turned out to be Rear Admiral Blitzer Harrsk. The left half of his pale-skinned face was marred by pink scar tissue, and where there should've been a blue eye to match that on the right side, there was a cybernetic replacement that glowed a bright yellow.

These imperfections were the result of an attack five years ago, while Harrsk had been on leave. As he was stopped at a traffic light, a White Fang suicide bomber had thrown himself against his car and blown himself up. The ensuing explosion had somehow left Harrsk alive, but had scarred the left half of his face and sent shrapnel into his left eye.

Though subsequent surgical operations had saved his life, the experience had left him with a burning, bitter hatred of all Faunus, making him a fierce opponent to Thrawn.

"I see the Council is still letting you out of the cage," the Commander of the Navy's 54th Destroyer Squadron, nicknamed "Arrowhead Squadron," remarked disdainfully.

"I will say it once more, Harrsk," Thrawn retorted, his reptilian eyes narrowing, "I had nothing to do with your injuries."

Harrsk narrowed his blue eye to match Thrawn's glare.

"Maybe so. But it's thanks to _you_ that the ranks of our military are now filled with criminals and traitors! You should be shot along with the rest of them!"

Thrawn turned to his subordinate.

"Incredible, isn't it, Captain Pellaeon?" he asked coolly.

"What is, sir?"

"That Harrsk makes such bigoted remarks and yet wonders why, despite his tactical prowess, he has been continuously passed over for promotion."

"How dare you!" The Rear Admiral snarled.

"Oh, I dare." the snake Faunus retorted, "Things are changing, Harrsk. It's not my fault if you fail to recognize that fact."

"I'll beat your arrogant hide senseless, Faunus trash!" Harrsk roared.

In a sudden rapture of his normally calm demeanor, Thrawn hissed and clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with fury. Though he wasn't often known for losing his temper, save for when someone insulted a piece of art, Harrsk was one of a select few exceptions.

"And what is going on here?" a new voice chimed in.

The three men turned to see Grand General Cassio Tagge, with Grunger and the female officer from earlier at his side. Evidently, he'd come out of his office to greet Thrawn and Pellaeon.

Tagge was a tall and thickly built man, with fair skin, brown eyes and hair, and a broad face that sported a cleft chin. Though he wore the grey tunic and matching pants that were the typical attire of an Atlesian officer, he was easily recognizable by his long, flaring sideburns.

The owner of TaggeCo and Head of the Atlesian Ground Forces turned to the woman standing next to him.

"Brunson, please escort Rear Admiral Harrsk back to his dropship."

"Yes, sir."

The now-identified Brunson walked past Thrawn and Pellaeon and headed for the elevators. Harrsk cast one last glare at the snake Faunus before turning to follow her.

Tagge then turned his attention to his two new guests, who pivoted back around to face him.

"With that out of the way," he stated, "It is good to see the both of you again."

"The feeling is mutual, Grand General," a now calm Thrawn replied with a nod.

Pellaeon also nodded in greeting and reached across to shake hands with both Tagge and Grunger.

"Now then, shall we discuss matters inside my office?" Tagge asked.

"That would be ideal," the Faunus Admiral answered.

Thrawn and Pellaeon followed Tagge and Grunger into the office, the door closing behind them and allowing them to converse in private.

* * *

 **I feel like I rushed this chapter, which is a no-no. If it feels rushed, please let me know, and I will make the necessary changes.**

 **For now, here are some notes for the chapter:**

 **-Captain Gilad Pellaeon, the famous CO of the _Chimaera_ , finally makes his appearance.**

 **-Grand General Cassio Tagge from _A New Hope_ and Marvel's _Darth Vader_ makes his appearance as both an antithesis of sorts to Jacques Schnee and the head of both the Ground Forces and his family's company.**

 **-TaggeCo also exists in canon, but it does not produce Star Destroyers or starfighters to my knowledge, nor is it completely affiliated with the military.**

 **-Josef Grunger is one of 11 other Grand Admirals in canon, and he fills that post here as well. Here, I'm introducing him as one of Thrawn's allies and friends. Don't worry, he has plenty of enemies out there as well.**

 **-Speaking of which, Blitzer Harrsk is a warlord in the post-Endor "Legends" universe. Here, he is just a Rear Admiral and the first of Thrawn's opponents that I will be introducing. Because his rank is lower than that of Thrawn and Grunger, his fleet is smaller than theirs, which is why I classified it as a "Destroyer Squadron." Also, in canon, he has a split personality disorder as the result of his injuries. Here, I've replaced it with intense anger towards Faunus.**

 **-Brunson is the name of a female Imperial officer introduced in the _Rebels_ show who tries to corner the protags on Geonosis and gets her cruiser blown up.**

 **-The _Wespe_ -class dropship (Wespe being the German word for Wasp) is based on the Imperial Dropship from _Star Wars: The Force Unleashed_.**

 **-The _Nemesis_ -class gunship is taken from _TFU II._**

 ** _-_ I'll go more into the F-1 Nimbus in the next chapter, though there is no relation to the V-Wing starfighter other than name.**

 **-The _Westerwaldlied_ is a German folk song and march used by both the Wehrmacht and the Bundeswehr, with Westerwald being an actual region in Germany. This will be the gist of marches used by the Atlesian military in this story.**

 **-Mistral seems to have elements of Greek and Japanese (along with a hint of Chinese) cultures in it. I tried to reflect that in the swords that Thrawn studies.**

* * *

 **Now, onto the reviews...**

 **- _Mastermind_ : I'm happy to see that you appreciate it. And yes, Thrawn is indeed that good. **

**-** _ **Du**_ **: As of right now, I have no plans of including anything pertaining to the Force or the Jedi and Sith, so I'm sorry to say that Darth Vader will not be making an appearance in this story. I can point you to a crossover that features him called** _ **The Dark Headmaster**_ **, where Vader is the headmaster of Haven Academy.**

 **However, Vader butchering some White Fang scum sounds like an excellent idea for a oneshot. I'll look into that.**

 _ **-SirSpangler**_ **: Thank you for saying that. Hopefully, the first part of this chapter answered your first question. In case it didn't (hope that didn't sound condescending), they will be featured in more than a mention, but not to the point that they take over the story.**

 _ **-MCZ**_ **: Glad you agree. Don't get me wrong, it's fun and all, but the workload is exhausting at times. Thank you for your praise. As for watching** _ **Rogue One**_ **...dew it. I would say it's the best** _ **Star Wars**_ **movie since the original trilogy.**

 **-Guest: Who's to say he'll only be reacting? *wink* Granted, that depends on what attack you're referring to.**

 _ **-King of fans**_ **: Your first postscript actually served as the inspiration for the second half of the chapter, so thanks for suggesting that. Also, as I don't watch _Rebels_ that much, I don't think I know enough about Agent Kallus to include him, so...sorry. **

* * *

**As always, reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed and encouraged. May the force be with you, my readers.**


	4. Discussions at Dolchstadt (and Beacon)

**So after much indolence, lack of time, and writer's block, here is Chapter 4. I sincerely apologize for the length of time it took for me to crank this out. To those of you who have stuck with me so far, thank you.**

 **Special thanks to** _ **Lord Demolitions**_ **for providing the suggestions used in this chapter and for agreeing to be my editor.**

* * *

 _The Ruling Council of Atlas serves as the kingdom's main system of governance. In its current form, the Council's main body consists of 18 seats. The governors of the fifteen districts of Atlas each hold one seat,_ _the_ _representatives of the main branches of the military (the Ground Forces and the Navy) hold two seats, and_ _one_ _seat is_ _held by the Headmaster of Atlas' Huntsman Academy. There are also various committees within the Council responsible for additional specific duties._

 _Despite the Council's large size, it is not unusual for councilors to have various roles or seats within the apparatus. For instance, as both a General in the Atlesian Ground Forces and Headmaster of Atlas Academy, James Ironwood holds both the Headmaster's seat and acts as the Representative of the Ground Forces. By a similar token, Wilhuff Tarkin, current governor of Eisschloss District, is also an important member of the Council's Armed Forces Committee, specifically the branch responsible for overseeing the kingdom's military capabilities._

* * *

 **Excerpt from a Military Intelligence report submitted to the Council of Vale concerning the Atlesian F-1 Nimbus Air Superiority Fighter**

The craft is of an unorthodox design. Unlike the Bullhead or the _Drachen_ -class dropship utilized by the Atlesian Ground Forces, it does not have a definite fuselage. Instead, the cockpit, which sports a distinctive domed windshield, and the two jet engines used to power the craft are built into an airfoil-like structure that comprises the fighter's center section.

Its control surfaces are equally bizarre, consisting of a pair of hexagonal panels each attached to the sides of the center section. The lower halves of the panels can be folded upwards to a horizontal configuration to allow the Nimbus to land on an airfield. Based on takeoff demonstrations conducted from a _Victory_ -class destroyer, however, we can assume that the fighter is to be primarily deployed from airships.

* * *

 ** _Approximately 8 hours earlier..._**

 **September 2** **7** **th, 80 AGW  
** **0732 hours  
** **Beacon Academy  
** **Dormitories  
** **Team JNPR Room**

Jaune leaned back in the chair at his desk as his stomach voiced its discontent, reminding its owner that he needed to treat himself to breakfast before his morning classes.

 _Just a little longer_ , he reminded himself as he heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

Pyrrha had let him take the first shower upon their return to the room. Though he always tried to be a gentleman, Jaune had been reluctant to argue, considering how he'd been both utterly exhausted and drenched in sweat.

They had both gotten up at the crack of dawn for their daily workout, consisting of a run around the campus plus a visit to the school gym. It was back breaking work for Jaune, who was nowhere near as fit as Pyrrha, but he still gave it his all.

As his Uncle Max had once told him, a leader always exceeded the expectations he or she placed on his or her subordinates.

Jaune suddenly had an epiphany and facepalmed. He hadn't written anything to his Uncle since the start of term. He'd probably be worried sick, and it was never good to make a military officer worried.

He pulled up a blank message on his Scroll and began to type.

 _Dear Uncle Max,_

 _Sorry for taking so long to_ _write to_ _you again. There's just been a lot on my hands lately. Most of the free time I have after class is taken up by schoolwork and training, so I haven't had much time to sit down and write. Apart from that, I've yet to find a date to the upcoming dance for the Vytal Festival. I tried asking someone, but she turned me down...again._

His guitar, a gift from his mother, lay next to his bed against the side of the room's communal bookshelf.

He let out a somber sigh. Why hadn't Weiss accepted him? Was he not acting cool enough? Maybe that was it. After all, Neptune seemed to have it under his belt, and it worked like a charm on the Ice Queen.

 _It's okay. I guess I just need to show more confidence. Mom always said that's what a girl looks for, right?_

 _Dance troubles_ _aside, I'm doing pretty well. Now I can actually survive Professor Goodwitch's sparring sessions, though I mainly have Pyrrha's training to thank for that._

He decided to leave out the whole fiasco involving Team CRDL blackmailing him. If worrying a military officer was a bad idea, it was an even worse idea to anger one, especially one in command of a crack army division.

 _Speaking of which, my teammates are all_ _fine_ _. Nora continues to be her bubbly, energetic, pancake-loving self. Though she's also proven to be both an excellent fighter and a great friend._

 _Ren is the complete opposite as far as personality goes. He's calm, stoic, and prefers the quiet. It's a wonder that he's paired up with someone as rambunctious as Nora. He_ _, too, is a strong fighter and, while it may not be obvious at first sight, a very caring person._

 _Pyrrha, my own partner, may not be the reason I came to Beacon, but I'd argue she's the reason I'm still here. For someone who's apparently a celebrity, she's a very nice, patient, and gentle person. She's also smart, strong, quick on her feet and a quick thinker. In short: The perfect teammate._

"Jaune?"

"Ah!" he recoiled, dropping his Scroll and hitting the headboard of the chair with such force that both the chair and him ended up careening to the floor.

"I'm sorry!"

Once the ceiling stopped spinning, Jaune allowed his eyes to focus on the person standing above him.

Pyrrha had apparently finished her shower while he was in the middle of writing his letter. She'd also changed into her uniform and was currently gazing down at him with emerald eyes full of worry and an apologetic expression.

She extended a hand down to help him up, which Jaune gladly accepted.

"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked once he was back on his feet.

"I'm okay. Just a little shaken up."

He replaced the chair before turning to meet his partner's stare.

"Ready to go eat?"

"Yes. Though if I might ask, what were you doing when I surprised you?"

"Writing a letter."

"To whom?"

"Ehhh, my Uncle Max," Jaune muttered lamely.

Pyrrha, for her part, didn't seem to mind.

"As much as I would like to hear more, Jaune, we must go and have breakfast. Why don't you tell me about him on the way?"

"Sure, I guess."

Jaune pocketed his Scroll before following Pyrrha out the door.

They began the long walk to the cafeteria, passing students who were also going about their routines.

"So?" the redhead prompted.

"Well, he's on my Mom's side of the family. They both come from Atlas, but they each followed different paths. Mom trained to become a Huntress while Uncle Max joined the military."

"So he's a soldier?"

"Technically, he's an officer. His son, Zev, who's also my cousin, is training to become one, too. His dad and granddad were also officers, so that kind of runs in his side of the family."

"Interesting."

"Yeah."

Jaune briefly wondered if having Atlesian family members would improve his chances with Weiss before resuming conversation.

"Believe it or not, he actually wanted me to follow him into the military at first."

Pyrrha's eyes widened slightly. Although she had confidence in her leader's abilities and potential, the thought of someone like him joining the Atlesian Military really seemed far-fetched.

Jaune seemed to have noticed her surprise, but continued regardless.

"I always overheard him arguing about it with my parents. He said that I was capable of being a leader just like him since it ran in our blood, but Mom and Dad said "No" 'cause they were afraid I wouldn't survive the Tarkin Treatment."

Pyrrha tilted her head inquisitively.

"What is the Tarkin Treatment? Does it have something to do with the Atlesian governor?"

"Yup, " Jaune answered. Part of him wondered how she knew of the man before chalking it up to one of the perks that came with fame.

"He was the one who devised it when he was in the Navy. From what Zev told me, the Tarkin Treatment involves trainees being dumped in the wilderness and being forced to survive on their own for several days."

"So it's similar to our initiation, except longer?"

"Sort of. You have to basically live off the land and use the surroundings to find food, water, and shelter. You're still allowed weapons, though, in case you come across any Grimm."

He paused to wave at Sun, who waved back while casually munching on a banana, and resumed his story once they'd passed the monkey Faunus.

"Uncle Max said the Treatment would help me learn to survive in any environment and give me an introduction to tactics. My parents, on the other hand, thought that it was too dangerous for me, and said that I needed to learn within the safety of schools and academies so that I could become a Huntsman like them."

"I take it your Uncle disagreed?"

Jaune nodded once more.

"He's never been too fond of Huntsmen and Huntresses for some reason. I've often heard him say some not-so-nice things about both them and Huntsman Academies in general. He also once said that their powers belonged in the military or something along those lines."

"That's a very weak argument," Pyrrha muttered with a frown.

"It gets even better," Jaune replied as they finally entered the cafeteria, "He was the one who pushed me to come here."

"Wait, what?" the redhead exclaimed.

They refrained from further discussion until they had both gotten their food, found a table, and were seated opposite of each other.

"That doesn't make sense," Pyrrha declared, careful to keep her voice down, "I thought you said he disliked Huntsmen. So why would he encourage you to become one?"

To her surprise, Jaune simply shrugged before muttering back an answer.

"I guess he decided that if I had no chance of joining the military, becoming a Huntsman was the next best way to become a leader like him, even if he didn't like them. Anyways, when I went to him and explained that my grades weren't good enough to get into Beacon and that my parents wouldn't let me try again, he told me to just go for it regardless, and that as long as I had the drive, I could make it."

"Your uncle must really care about you if he's willing to overlook his prejudices."

The blonde boy smiled fondly before taking a bite out of one of his slices of toast. He made sure to swallow before replying.

"He sure does. Or at the very least, he wants to see me do well. He used to tell me stories of war heroes and successful military leaders. One that always stuck with me was this one about a peasant from Mistral who became a foot soldier in the service of a warlord. Even though he had poor origins, he fought in and won several battles and would go on to become one of the most powerful warlords in the kingdom."

Pyrrha's gaze turned pensive.

"I've also heard this story. That same warlord was supposedly credited with uniting all the different peoples of Mistral into a single kingdom."

"Can't have been easy. Mistral's got a lot of different cultures, right?"

"It does indeed," Pyrrha, a Mistrali native, nodded, "Which makes its unification all the more impressive."

"Yeah."

Jaune adopted a thoughtful stance of his own.

"I wonder why I remember that story the most. Maybe it's because I can identify with the peasant. After all, we both started out with nothing."

Pyrrha took a bite out of her apple before smiling encouragingly at him.

"Maybe so. But perhaps you are destined to do great things in the future just as the peasant did."

"I guess." Jaune's smile was somewhat meeker, but it soon turned to one of good-natured humor.

"Maybe I'll finally beat you in sparring."

The four-time champion of the Mistrali Regional Tournament donned a mask of faux condescension that wouldn't have disgraced Weiss.

"Hmph. As if _you_ would ever stand a chance."

The two teammates chuckled heartily before resuming their eating. They were later joined by the N and R of their team, with Nora carrying both a stack of pancakes twice her height and a bottle of maple syrup while Ren had a simple salad.

Once they had finished eating, Jaune pulled out his Scroll to finish his message.

 _Honestly, I couldn't have asked for a better team, and I'm sure that we can finally start making a difference out there._

 _I have to go. Class is about to start. I'll write some more to you later._

 _Tell Aunt Ishild and Zev that I said hello._

 _Your nephew_ _,_

 _Jaune_

He hit the "Send" button, slipped his Scroll back into his pocket, and got up to lead his team through another day of classes.

* * *

 _ **Present Time...**_

 **1508 hours  
** **Dolchstadt Shipyard  
** **Administrative Building  
** **Tagge's Office**

Tagge looked out the large window situated behind his desk, which allowed for an unobstructed view of the entire shipyard.

The enormous drydocks below were bustling with activity as Human and Faunus laborers worked to build new destroyers and repair those already in service.

Above the yard, warships of Grunger's Red Hammer Fleet were on patrol, ready to deter any possible attack from air and land. There were also several other vessels belonging to naval units whose ships were here for repairs, including Thrawn's own fleet.

Speaking of which, Tagge watched as several tugs guided the _Judicator_ and the _Bellicose_ into two vacant drydocks, one of which had just been vacated by the destroyer _Whirlwind_ , the vessel serving as Harrsk's flagship.

The rest of Harbinger Fleet maintained a holding pattern near the shipyard, allowing the Grand General to clearly see the armada that his friend had amassed.

Though the _Victorys_ and _Imperators_ made up the bulk of Thrawn's fleet, they were dwarfed by the _Praetor_ -class battlecruiser _Intimidator_ , measuring as long as three _Imperators_ end-to-end and capable of carrying and deploying an entire division of ground troops.

The destroyers and battlecruiser were also accompanied by several smaller _Lancer_ -class frigates and IPV-1 patrol vessels, which acted as both escort and anti-aircraft ships.

There were even five of the newer Interdictor warships, which were capable of generating large shields that could deflect and absorb blasts from various weapons. Four were _Immobilizer_ -class vessels, about two-thirds the length of a _Victory_ , though retaining the same dagger-like shape with a flatter bridge and four globular shield generators near the stern. One was a _Dominator_ -class airship, essentially an _Imperator_ retrofitted with both shield generators that more powerful than those on the _Immobilizers_ and a missile jamming system, a feature unique to the class.

Each ship in Harbinger Fleet bore the unit's emblem: A black image of a Chimaera, the mythical monster that served as the namesake for the Faunus Admiral's flagship, superimposed on an hourglass.

Once the _Judicator_ and _Bellicose_ were in their respective drydocks, large clamps secured the destroyers, and bridges extended to allow repair teams to board and non-essential crew to disembark.

With a few taps on his Scroll, Tagge ordered the drydock supervisors to allow the laborers that had earlier been repairing the _Whirlwind_ the chance to go on break, and to send another crew to take their place.

Though the procedure was time-consuming, it helped ensure that the yardmen would not be overworked. Unlike most Atlesian businessmen and tycoons, Tagge prioritized the welfare of his employees over his company's profit. As his mother had taught him when grooming the young Cassio to replace her as owner of TaggeCo, building airships effectively required a strong and highly motivated labor force. And in order to keep them in such a state of mind, they needed to be cared for, regardless of whether they were Human or Faunus.

A key embodiment of Sanya Tagge's philosophy was the city of Dolchstadt, located just north of the shipyard.

The city had originally been little more than a few rows of houses, constructed almost fifteen years earlier in order to provide living accommodations for both the yardmen and, most importantly, their families.

Apart from keeping the employees at the time satisfied, the construction of housing also attracted new hires, especially amongst Faunus who were embittered by the cruel treatment they suffered under the SDC but shied away from the White Fang's radical methods.

Soon, the influx of workers plus the building of additional infrastructure meant that the tiny town had rapidly grown into a thriving city. When choosing a name, the inhabitants decided upon "Dolchstadt," an Old Atlesian phrase that translated roughly to "Dagger city" and an allusion to the dagger shaped hulls of the vessels being built nearby. The name was later bestowed upon the shipyard itself.

Tagge smiled and turned back around to briefly gaze at his desk. The holographic projector built into it currently displayed two large screens.

One screen showed the blueprints for the new _Allegiance_ -class battlecruisers, designed to complement and eventually replace the _Praetors_ , which were nearing twelve years of service. The first two vessels had already been completed and were now serving with Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik's 4th Air Fleet, tasked with defending Atlas City.

The other diagramed a series of wargames that the Ground Forces was to conduct over the course of the week. The goal was to test a new strategy for conducting armored warfare, one that utilized both tanks and the Paladin battlesuits rather than favoring one over the other.

It was hoped that this moderate strategy would appease both the Generals who favored automation and the more conservative officers within the Armored Corps who had balked at proposals of having their tanks replaced with mechs, let alone automated ones.

After sparing both screens one quick glance, Tagge returned his attention to Thrawn, Pellaeon, and Grunger, all of whom were holding glasses of water and were seated in armchairs that encircled a round table at the center of the office.

The voice of Emily Grey, Tagge's favorite opera singer, warbled from a radio in the far left corner of the room. The Grand General was an avid fan of opera, owing to both his noble upbringing and his mother's attempts to expose her children to the arts.

Thrawn took a sip from his glass and leaned forward from his chair, his slit pupils meeting Tagge's gaze.

"I trust things are well with the company?"

Tagge nodded.

"As well as they can be. Production of the next batch of _Imperators_ is proceeding as planned, and our new fighter construction facility in Gletscherbach District has begun operations."

"That is good news," Thrawn acknowledged.

"Indeed. However, servicing the ships we already have in service hasn't been entirely easy, at least here. Most of my repair teams have been spending the last three days performing extensive repairs on the destroyers _Accuser_ and _Agonizer_."

Next to Thrawn, Pellaeon's grey eyebrows suddenly raised as his countenance bore surprise.

"I beg your pardon, Tagge. Did you say the _Accuser_ and _Agonizer_ were here for repairs?"

"I did."

"Does that mean that Admirals Piett and Rogriss are here as well?"

"Yes. I take it you wish to see them?"

The Captain turned to his superior.

"With your permission, sir?"

After a few thoughtful seconds, Thrawn nodded in acquiescence.

"Very well. You may go."

"There's a cafeteria on the ground floor," Tagge said, "I can ask them both to meet you there."

"Thank you."

Pellaeon stood and made his exit, a mild spring in his step.

"What's got him so excited?" Grunger asked his fellow Grand Admiral.

Thrawn hid a knowing smile behind his hand, still gripping his glass.

"Before they achieved their current rank, Admirals Piett and Rogriss served as captains in my fleet. Captain Pellaeon was their mentor."

"Ah."

Grunger apparently knew of Pellaeon's tendency to foster a strong camaraderie with those who served under and alongside him, as he made no further comment.

Tagge, meanwhile, cleared his throat to gain the attention of the two Grand Admirals.

"Now then, Thrawn, would you care to explain why you chose to call us together today?"

Thrawn nodded and set his glass down.

"As two senior military officers and some of my closest allies, I believed you needed to hear the information I have."

And so he told Tagge and Grunger everything. About the attack on the _Tzoah_ , about Astor Neumann's escape, and most importantly, about his suspicions that the White Fang were going to use Neumann to infiltrate the CCT tower in Vale and introduce a virus into the system.

Thrawn also made sure to mention his discussion with Ironwood, seeing as Tagge was his superior.

Upon mentioning Ironwood's confidence in a show of power, both Tagge and Grunger let out exasperated sighs.

"As shrewd a tactician James may be," the Grand General remarked, "At times, his overconfidence would put General Lagune to shame."

"Then why did we send him?" Grunger asked, remembering the foolhardy Human general who'd underestimated his Faunus opponents during the Battle of Fortcastle and paid dearly.

Tagge frowned bitterly.

"As the councils of the four kingdoms are responsible for organizing the Vytal Festival, our own Council made the decision to appoint the Head of Security. Unfortunately, I had little say in the process, owing to the fact that I don't hold a seat."

In the aftermath of the failed Coup of '73, the Grand General and all 12 Grand Admirals were barred from holding seats in the Ruling Council. While the official reason for this was to protect them from assassination attempts, skeptics of the measure argued that the Council was attempting to curb the influence of the military. Ironic, considering that some of the councilors had served or were serving in the armed forces.

Grunger still wasn't satisfied, though.

"Don't you have your own friends in the Council?"

"Yes, and they opposed the decision. But it seems their vetoes weren't enough."

Thrawn was the next to speak up.

"What about Admiral Konstantine?"

The other Grand Admiral in the room snorted disdainfully at the mention of the Council's Representative of the Navy.

"He voted for Ironwood," Tagge replied, "From my understanding, the other Grand Admirals aren't too happy with him for doing so."

"Can't say I blame them," Grunger chimed back in, "One of the few things all twelve of us can agree on is distaste for Ironwood and his plans for automation. So if Konstantine's supporting him, they're all bound to hate him. Of course, I hate him regardless. Snobby bastard."

"Either way, it seems this matter is out of our hands," Tagge declared, "All we can do now is wait for the White Fang make their move."

He looked up, as though a sudden revelation had come to him.

"On the other hand, we do at least know of the fate of the missing Paladin prototypes."

Tagge pushed a few buttons on his desk and the holographic projector pulled up a document along with several photographs.

"The day before yesterday, we received a tip from our colleagues in Atlesian Security that one of their agents had spotted one of the prototypes in the city of Vale."

One photograph expanded to show a rather wide alleyway somewhere in Vale. Judging by the angle, the photo had been taken from high up. It showed several people unloading a Paladin from a truck.

While the Paladin itself bore no markings, the white uniforms worn by the guys handling the giant battlesuit displayed a blood-red wolf's head.

"As you can see. One of the prototypes appears to have fallen into the hands of the White Fang. Considering that they were all being shipped together, we can assume the same fate befell the others."

Though he didn't voice it, Thrawn had to commend Tagge for keeping himself calm and composed.

Grunger, however, was not as successful.

"How the hell did those terrorists steal a Paladin? I thought the convoy carrying them was supposed to be well protected!"

"Apparently they found a weakness in the convoy's security detail, and exploited it," Tagge muttered.

"There's more. Yesterday, the same agent reported that a prototype, possibly the one from the previous photo, was destroyed in an engagement with a team of students from Beacon Academy."

"Based on _this_ photo, it seems the mech's pilot was none other than Roman Torchwick."

The Grand General pulled up another picture that showed a man standing amidst the wreckage of the prototype facing four girls who were presumably the Beacon students, each armed. Even though the man's face couldn't be seen, owing to the angle from which the picture had been taken, there was no mistaking the distinctive white jacket and black bowler hat.

"That's strange," Thrawn mused, "Why would the White Fang, an organization known for harboring strong anti-Human sentiment, work with a Human?"

Tagge nodded and added his two cents.

"Especially with a Human who, according to his Investigations file, is infamous for being an anti-Faunus bigot."

"It's likely he isn't working with them willingly," Grunger pitched in, "Though that raises another question. Who's forcing them to work together?"

"Hopefully we'll find the answer, along with so many others, when the White Fang make their next move," Thrawn replied placatingly. In order to study an unknown enemy, one had to observe his or her moves.

"Still, you can't help but worry, can you?" Grunger questioned with a frown.

Thrawn mirrored his colleague's expression as he gazed out the large window towards the horizon.

"Of course I can't help but worry. After all, we are discussing an issue that could lead to a war larger than the one we're currently waging."

* * *

When Pellaeon finally reached the cafeteria, he found it packed with officers and workers eating and conversing amongst themselves.

To his mild surprise, the cafeteria was nicely furnished, with bright, decorative walls, various tables of different sizes and either circular or rectangular shape, and, judging by the various lines and kitchens at the far end, plenty of opportunities as far as food went. There was even a coffee bar tucked away in a corner.

He was not hungry, having eaten aboard the _Chimaera_ en route to the city, though a cup of coffee always sounded good.

"Captain Pellaeon!"

He pivoted around and found himself face-to-face with two fellow officers, their grey uniforms nearly identical to his. The difference, however, was in their insignia plaques. Pellaeon's own plaque marked him as a Captain, while theirs distinguished them as Admirals.

One officer had brown eyes and matching short hair protruding from his peaked officer's cap. The other had gray hair that almost mirrored Pellaeon's own in its color.

The Captain smiled warmly.

"Hello, Piett. Rogriss. It's been a long time."

Admirals Firmus Piett and Teren Rogriss reached forward and shook hands with their former mentor.

While Piett forced a thin smile, Rogriss grinned jauntily.

"How're you doing, old man?"

Pellaeon rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. It seemed one of his pupils hadn't lost his unrestrained sense of humor.

"I hardly think you're in a position to call me old, especially since your hair's turned gray."

"Touché," Rogriss acknowledged, "But I don't have a bushy moustache like you."

"Well you seem to be doing well for yourself if you've still got your wit."

Rogriss chuckled as Pellaeon turned to his other student.

"And what about you, Piett? Are you doing alright?"

"Yes, sir." The other Admiral muttered tersely.

He decided not to press the issue, as Piett was very meek when it came to conversation.

"So, boys, what do you say we grab some coffee and have a chat?"

Piett's face brightened considerably and he nodded. He, too, it seemed, had converted to the religion of coffee.

"Sounds like a plan!" Rogriss declared enthusiastically.

The three officers walked to the bar and placed their order. Once they had received their cups of coffee, they found a table for three and took a seat.

Pellaeon was the first to initiate conversation.

"Now then, what have you both been up to?"

Piett took a sip from his cup and leaned back in his chair.

"Protecting the facilities in Alsius."

Since the Great War, Alsius District, now the site of Atlas' Huntsman Academy, had been a hub for military production and development. It was home to several factories that churned out guns, vehicles, and aircraft for the armed forces.

The district was also the site of the headquarters for the military's R&D division, known as Advanced Weapons Research, and housed several research facilities.

"Apparently, they're sending a Specialist to oversee all future android shipments after that fiasco with the Paladin prototypes."

Pellaeon was mildly surprised. As the Specialist Corps was nowadays primarily involved in combating Grimm, with Advanced Operations tackling more sentient opponents, it seemed a little unusual for one of its members to get involved in matters outside its scope.

"Who might they be sending?"

Piett scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Winter Schnee," he spat. Clearly the Admiral held the same disdain for the Schnee name that so many others did.

"Lighten up," Rogriss interjected, "At least you've got the somewhat reasonable one in the family."

"What do you mean?"

The Admiral smirked sardonically.

"When you're responsible for tracking down the bastards who've been robbing SDC dust shipments, you tend to frequently come into contact with the company executives."

He took a sip from his coffee mug.

"Or even better, the Peacock himself."

The former mentor couldn't hold back a chuckle. Rogriss always loved to come up with unflattering nicknames for those he didn't like.

"I take it you aren't too fond of them?"

"Yup. Those scumbags only care about their dust and the Lien it's apparently worth."

Pellaeon took his ex student's disgust as a sign that he needed to change the subject.

"Well, how is the hunt going?"

At that, Rogriss' mood seemed to improve.

"It's going swimmingly. We actually ended up taking out one of the White Fang cells responsible for the latest string of dust robberies."

"Do tell."

"Turns out they were also planning steal a shipment of tanks leaving Winterhafen by train. Thanks to our boys in Security, we were able to monitor their radio traffic and pinpoint both their hideout and the path the raiding party would be taking."

"You'd think that they'd have learned to change their frequencies by now," Piett remarked drily.

"I'm not complaining. Anyways, I sent a couple of gunships to stop them from reaching the train, and they performed their job perfectly. Blew that terrorist scum to bits. Of course, I gave them the opportunity to surrender beforehand."

"Ever the gentleman. But how'd you deal with their base?"

"I took a page out of their own book and went for the hit-and-run."

"Elaborate, Rogriss."

"It's actually simple. I showed up over the base, bombarded them with plasma fire, sent a few men down to gather any important materials, and left."

"What'd you get?"

"No dust, much to the chagrin of the materialists, but we did find, amongst other things, a map of additional bases in the region. I was about to go after them, until two of the _Agonizer_ 's main engines suddenly decided to roll over and die."

"I take it that's why you are here?" Pellaeon observed.

"Yup. Thank goodness our destroyers have emergency engines."

"Indeed."

He then turned to Piett, who'd finished most of his coffee.

"And what about you Piett? Why are you here?"

The expression on Piett's face changed to one of either bitterness or embarrassment.

"Collision," he muttered.

"Pardon?"

"I was involved in a collision," Piett repeated, a little louder this time.

"What happened?"

"About five days earlier, there was an airship convoy arriving in Alsius with various chemicals. Apparently, the Biochemical unit was testing a new method for synthesizing nerve agents."

"Sounds like good old Krennic is keeping his scientists busy," said Rogriss.

Pellaeon had never met the Director of the Biochemical Research Unit, the branch of AWR tasked with developing such weapons for the military, but he'd heard stories about him and his superhuman dedication to his work.

"Indeed he is," Piett continued, "Anyways, my task force was to escort the convoy on the final leg of its journey to Alsius."

"So, what happened?"

"Unfortunately, my navigation officer failed to inform me that our route would take us over Atlas Academy around the same time that the students would be leaving for the Vytal Festival. And you know how big those airships they travel in are."

"Oh, no," Rogriss muttered.

"Ended up striking one of them amidships. Thankfully there were no students aboard, or they would've probably been killed. My ship, however, wasn't as fortunate: 19 crewmen dead and a heavily damaged bow."

Pellaeon reached over and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

Piett shrugged him off and smiled thinly.

"It's alright. You said this sort of thing would happen when we were first signed up, right? Besides, I made sure the navigation officer responsible was court-martialed."

Pellaeon frowned behind his mug. Ideally, he would've reminded Piett that the fault really lay with him for failing to order evasive maneuvers to avoid the collision. Instead, he held his tongue, remembering that Piett had a tendency to shift blame for his mistakes. It was a problem he hadn't been able to correct.

Piett, for his part, simply smirked and turned to Rogriss.

"So tell us, Rogriss. Is it true that Jacques Schnee's moustache is as big as his ego?"

Rogriss huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Hardly. His ego is large enough to swallow all of Remnant."

The rest of their time together passed amicably with the three of them abusing the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company amongst other things.

By the time he'd bid both of his former students a fond farewell and started making his way back to Tagge's office, Pellaeon felt both relieved and content to see that his former students had managed to rise to great heights since leaving his tutelage.

He was certain that, despite Piett's issues, both Rogriss and he would remain exemplary Admirals in the Navy.

The Navy would certainly need such officers, be it in a time of peace or war.

* * *

 **I hope you all caught the tiny RvB reference.**

 **On to the notes:**

 **-The design of the F-1 Nimbus is inspired by fanart I found that depicted a WWII-era TIE Fighter. If you wish to see it, just google search "WWII TIE FTR"**

 **-** _ **Drachen**_ **is the class name I'll be using for the Atlesian Dropship featured in the actual show, with "Drachen" being the German/Old Atlesian word for dragon. I got the idea from a comment on the RWBY wiki saying that the ship kind of looked like a dragon.**

 **-So Jaune is part Atlesian and has an Uncle in the military. Any thoughts on who he may be? If you have ideas, I'd prefer it if you PM me with your answer, so as to not potentially spoil it for those who haven't gotten this far.**

 **-The story that Jaune and Pyrrha discuss is essentially a streamlined, RWBY-ized version of the real life tale of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the famous Samurai warlord of peasant upbringing who would play a key role in Japan's unification during the late 16th and early 17th centuries.**

 **-The structure of my version of the Ruling Council of Atlas is based in part on that of the United States Senate**

 **-The** _ **Praetor**_ **and** _ **Allegiance**_ **classes of battlecruisers appear here as the Atlesian Navy's Super Star Destroyer equivalences. As with the** _ **Victorys**_ **and** _ **Imperators**_ **, their space capabilities have been removed.**

 **-The _Lancer_ -class frigates and IPV-1 patrol boats make their appearances as escort and anti-aircraft vessels, as Atlas needs to have some smaller craft in its fleet.**

 **-The Interdictors have been modified somewhat compared to their canon counterparts. Here, they use shield generators instead of gravity wells.**

 **-Admirals Firmus Piett and Teren Rogriss are here as ex-students of Captain Pellaeon. It's a bit of a downgrade from their roles in canon.**

 **-Advanced Weapons Research appears as the primary R &D branch of the Atlesian Military, with sub branches that each specialize in a particular type of weapon.**

 **-You may have noticed the passive introductions of Admiral Konstantine, Governor Tarkin, Grand Admiral Teshik, and Director Krennic. I will comment more on them when they make their actual appearances, though I've kind of already described their roles.**

 **-In one of my earlier notes, I said that I had no plans of eventually bringing in Agent Kallus. I may have fibbed about that.**

 **Now for the reviews:**

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 **-** _ **MCZ**_ **: Thanks for the compliment. I do pity Harrsk, though, considering that he has split-personality disorder in the EU. I'm glad you liked** _ **Rogue One**_ **. I, for one, really enjoyed the ending, both because it led directly into** _ **A New Hope**_ **and because I am a huge Vader fan.**

 **-** _ **Shepard131**_ **: Thank you.**

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 **As always, reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated, and I will see you next chapter.**


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